


Stormy Weather

by california_112



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/california_112/pseuds/california_112
Summary: The door from the bullring opened, cutting the Constable off mid-sentence. Watts knocked on the side table perfunctorily."Detective, there's another one." He said, then left just as abruptly as he had arrived.Murdoch glanced between the door and Crabtree, noting the Constable's confused expression, then stood up with an apologetic smile. "I'll be right back, George…"-or-An evening at the station house, where nothing seems to be going to plan.ABSOLUTELY 0% SPOILERS FOR ANYTHING
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Stormy Weather

"George, what have you?"

Even though they were inside, Detective Murdoch had to raise his voice in order for Constable Crabtree to hear him. The storm that had been brewing since midday had broken just under an hour ago, and now all of Toronto was being pelted with driving rain, mixed with the occasional squall of hail. A fierce wind, chilled from being driven across Lake Ontario, funnelled through the narrow streets and alleyways, tugging at coats and whisking away hats. Crabtree was, for once, thankful for the strap on his police helmet, however uncomfortable it was, or he would certainly have lost it to the gale. As it was, he had arrived at Station House four missing only one thing- his usual good humour.

"Absolutely nothing." he replied, causing Murdoch to raise his eyebrows slightly. "Sir."

"Well, where did you look?" Murdoch prompted, resting his arms on his note-littered desk.

"I started at that alleyway off Jarvis, then moved south to- sir, it was hopeless!" Crabtree burst out, waving his arms. "It's so dark and- and stormy, we couldn't see anything! I could hardly stand upright, let alone- Henry was knocked over twice!"

"Where is Constable Higgins?" the detective asked.

Peering into the bullpen, he could only see Detective Watts, sitting cross-legged on his chair with the book he was reading almost touching his nose. Back in Murdoch's office, Crabtree sighed, taking off his dripping coat and hanging it over his arm.

"He's in the water closet, patching himself up."

"What happened?" Murdoch asked, more incredulous than worried.

"Oh, it's nothing really. There was this one very strong gust of wind, stronger than the others, and it hit him fully in the chest. He slipped over, and-"

The door from the bullring opened, cutting the Constable off mid-sentence. Watts knocked on the side table perfunctorily.

"Detective, there's another one." He said, then left just as abruptly as he had arrived.

Murdoch glanced between the door and Crabtree, noting the Constable's confused expression, then stood up with an apologetic smile. "I'll be right back, George…"

Intrigued, Crabtree followed the detective in Watts' wake, and soon arrived at the problem. Starting from a small but spreading dark patch on the high ceiling, a steady flow of drips fell like a metronome, landing in-

"My hat?!" Crabtree swiped it from beneath the drops, leaving them to fall on the wooden floor with a steady _thunk thunk thunk_.

Murdoch half-sighed. "Detective Watts, was it really necessary to-"

"It was the first thing that came to hand, and, it was already soaked," he explained, "now it's half-full of water, may I-"

"No, you may not!" Crabtree exclaimed, snatching his hat out of the detective's reach and replacing it firmly on his desk.

"George, get a basin from my office." Murdoch instructed, craning his neck to look at the ceiling. "How many leaks is is now?"

"With this one, five." Watts shook his head. "I've never seen a storm like it."

"Make that six." The pair of detectives turned to see Crabtree leaning out of Murdoch's office. "Sir, I- I mean Detective Murdoch, there's one just started over your desk, I think that-"

"The case notes!" Murdoch rushed to his desk and swept half-soaked papers onto his chair, placing an empty paper tray to catch the water.

Watts wandered into the office, apparently relaxed, as Crabtree hurried to put a basin in the bullpen. Murdoch growled, exasperated. "These notes will have to be typed again, all the ink has run. Detective Watts, were you…"

"Busy? No, no…" He took a deep breath, "Mister Marx can wait until another day."

"Why can't the city just pay to fix the roof?" Murdoch wandered aloud, salvaging what he could from the pulp on his chair. "It would likely be much less expensive than all these basins, and certainly far less annoying."

He realised that Watts had wandered over to his work table and was no longer listening, so commandeered Higgins' desk and typewriter without further ado. However, a few moments after he had settled himself in the rather hard chair, he was interrupted by its usual occupant skidding in from the direction of the water closet. Higgins had a small bandage wrapped clumsily around his hand, but this was not what drew the detective's attention- it was his plaster-covered uniform and rather terrified expression.

"Constable, what is it?"

"Sir, in the water closet, it's- well- let's just say it's living up to its name."

Watts leaned in the doorway to Murdoch's office, interested, whilst Murdoch made a face of confusion. Crabtree reclined in his chair, and began musing aloud whilst wringing out his coat.

"You know, I always used to think that a water closet was a room where all the water was stored. Like a normal closet is full of clothing, except the water closet was full of-" he broke off and sat up straight as he realised. "Henry, you don't mean-"

"I was just leaving and there was a massive crash!" Higgins explained, slightly panicked. "I closed the door, but I'm not sure exactly how much of the ceiling came down, and-"

"This sounds like an emergency," Watts pronounced, in the same tone as someone critiquing a tablecloth, "we'd best do something about it. You three, with me…"

The policemen jumped up and hurried towards the incident, all other tasks forgotten, and Detective Murdoch rolled his eyes. Between the heady mix of love, lies, and leaks, it seemed like the case would never be solved.

**Author's Note:**

> what will break next
> 
> This was just a little exercise because I was bored, feedback is appreciated! Also, I've got something big planned (if I ever work out the plot!) which should hopefully be around towards the end of the year...stay tuned, folks :D A final note: any and all Watts-related fic requests are being considered at this time, either here or via my Tumblr (@california-112) ;)


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